They wanted to drag her down with them.
Marilyn laughed out of anger, her words sharp, “Do you think if I completely dissociate myself, the higher-ups will believe me? You mentioned I know Nelson’s secretary. If he helps me clear my name, the ones punished will be you.”
She had always been gentle and had never spoken so harshly. Her words struck a nerve, and the other party was almost jumping in anger, “Marilyn!”
Marilyn didn’t want to argue further. She closed her laptop, hugged it to her chest, and left.
It wasn’t that she was unwilling to help, but she couldn’t accept being forced in such a manner.
Back in her room, she calmed down a bit. Though she had spoken so definitively, she wasn’t confident. It was just to scare them.
Retrieving the manuscript was something she had to do, whether she wanted to or not.
But how?
Marilyn had always hoped to appear before Nelson clean and unblemished, without him looking down on her. If she went directly to him, whether he would listen was one thing; even if he did, he would definitely not have a good impression. He hated people who made mistakes.
The more Marilyn thought about it, the more agitated she became. She threw her phone to the ground in frustration.
But in the end, she resignedly picked up her phone and left the room.
She calculated that Nelson would be dining at this time. She had heard about his room before and took the elevator with ease but stopped by the hotel’s logistics department first.
She showed her ID to prove her identity. “I have a cleanliness obsession and would like to clean the room myself. Could I borrow a set of your cleaning clothes?”
They carefully checked her ID and lent her a set of cleaning staff clothes without suspicion.
Marilyn breathed a sigh of relief and changed into the clothes, feeling a bit desperate. How had she, a young lady of the Ellison family, fallen to this point?
There were guards outside Nelson’s room, as meticulous and dignified as ever. Marilyn wore a mask, and they didn’t recognize her. She was let in under the pretense of cleaning.
In the presidential suite of the hotel, everything was well-equipped. The large room was empty; he must not be here.
To show she was really cleaning, Marilyn tidied up a bit before moving to Nelson’s bedroom. Under the light, everything lay quietly. Marilyn could smell Nelson’s tobacco scent.
Her nose suddenly felt sour as she squatted down to organize the items on his bedside table.
Strangely, Nelson was usually neat, but his bedside table was a mess.
Only after tidying did she understand. It was piled with sketchbooks and notes, marked all over. On a blank space, there was a drawing of a pig with a word written forcefully beside it: Nelson.
Marilyn’s hands trembled as she opened the cover page. Sure enough, Callie’s name was written there.
Her handwriting was beautiful.
Next to the sketchbooks were several small hair ties and clips, clearly for women, and even some sanitary pads!
Marilyn confirmed that Callie was living here with Nelson. Observing their interaction up close must be easygoing; otherwise, Nelson wouldn’t allow Callie to be so casual in his space.
Letting her into his world was a form of trust and… love.
This was something Marilyn could never attain in her lifetime.
She forced back the tears and entered the study next to the bedroom without permission.